


Demon of Shon-xan

by JungHaio



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungHaio/pseuds/JungHaio
Summary: Irelia investigates reports of a demon near a small village, and finds a broken soldier instead.Takes place after Noxus' invasion of Ionia, and before Riven begins wandering.





	Demon of Shon-xan

“Irelia you  _ need _ to take a break.”

 

“Absolutely not. There’s still too much to be done.”

 

“You’re right--there is. That doesn’t mean you should work yourself into the ground though.”

 

“But-”

 

“Ionia can’t be rebuilt by you alone. There are others who will take up the slack.” 

 

“The more people help the faster things get done.”

 

“Look, I’m not telling you to stop helping forever. I’m saying  _ take a break _ before you pass out.”

 

“Fine. But I still want to be doing something.”

 

Karma sighed and shuffled through an intimidatingly large pile of papers, pulling one out of the stack.

 

“Here. Small village in Shon-xan, near Coeur Valley. Reports of a demon, though the guards stationed there reckon it’s a Noxian deserter hiding out in the woods. I’m giving you full jurisdiction over this.” She signed the page. “And I don’t expect you back for at least two weeks.”

 

“Full jurisdiction? Not a capture?”   
  


“You know what I said. Your hatred for Noxians served you well in the war, but will only impede in finding the third path.”

 

“You are telling me not to hate the murderers of my people.”

 

Karma stood and walked over to a window. “Did you know there is a sizable population of Noxians in the southern port towns?”

 

“I was aware.”   
  


“Disillusioned soldiers, mostly, but also cooks, smiths--people who were forced into a war they didn’t support, and now face certain death if they return home. Somewhat complicit in the war, but not truly guilty either.”

 

“And?”

 

“Would you enact vengeance on them? Give them your blessing and let them live their lives? Neither option seems very palatable to me.” Karma turned, facing her. “I will be needing your support more than ever Irelia, but I cannot depend on a mind so clouded. Use this break to think on it.” She held out the paper.

 

Irelia took the paper. Karma smiled.

* * *

 

 

The old man gestured wildly as he spoke.

 

“I’m telling you! It’s a demon of vengeance, come to punish us for our sins in the war! That’s why it got Ichiro!”

 

His wife smacked him. “It’s the ghost of a Noxian soldier no doubt, angry and bitter.”

 

Rumours and gossip continued to fly in the plaza. Villagers were easily spooked, and tended to be very superstitious, making them somewhat unreliable as witnesses. Irelia turned to the guard beside her and asked, “Tell me again what happened?”

 

“Ichiro,” he pointed to a man, arm heavily bandaged, “Kaku, and his sister, Hana” a young boy and a teen, “were walking in the forest to collect nuts. They were attacked by something, and it gave Ichiro a… I’m not sure how to describe it… It’s not a cut from a normal sword. Maybe it was dull, maybe it wasn’t made to cut, but it damn near broke his arm. The weapon Ichiro described isn’t like anything the Noxians used…”

 

Ichiro turned and glared at the two of them. “Are you two still going on about Noxian deserters? I can tell you it ain’t that.”

 

The sound of his voice caused all the others to hush, eager to hear the details again.   
  


“I saw with my own two eyes! It was terrifying. Blood all over it! I saw the barest hint of its wounds, great festering things--if it’s the same all over it’s body, no way it’s human. No human could survive while looking like that.” 

 

A collective shudder ran through the group.

 

“It was in a human shape yes, but its hair--where it wasn’t matted with blood and dirt, of course--was stark white. I’ve never seen such hair in all my years. Not the white hairs of old age, this was. And its eyes! Deepest crimson! It scares me to even think of it.”

 

Someone shouted out “Get on with it Ichiro! What happened?!”

 

“Don’t rush me!” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, there I was, staring it down. I had to be brave, of course, with the kids right behind me.”

 

Everyone’s eyes turned to the siblings. The boy turned pale at this and crumpled into a sit.

 

“And it snarled! Actually snarled! That was when it pulled out it’s sword. I don’t even know if I can call it that! Like a lump of metal on a stick! It had these glowing runes, nothing in Ionian that’s for sure. And it leaps toward me! I tried to block it with my walking stick but it busted through it as if it were a wet noodle! That’s when I got this, of course.” He raised his bandaged arm, almost smugly. “I knew there was no chance then, so I grabbed the kids and ran. I looked back one last time and it was just standing there, watching me. Gave me goosebumps.” He gave a pointed look towards Irelia. “No way it’s a deserter. No way.”

 

At the end of his story the assembled villagers broke out once more into excited gossiping.

 

“Well, he knows how to tell a story, I’ll give him that.” Irelia grimaced. It seemed calming the villagers down once it was over would be harder than catching the deserter itself. She was sure the story was exaggerated by panic, having seen the same thing happen during the war. And if the deserter was even half as injured as Ichiro had said catching them would be a breeze. 

 

“I’m going into the forest.”

 

“Are you sure miss? Should we come along?”   
  


“Don’t worry, that won’t be necessary. I’m confident I can handle this myself.” She got up from her chair and started walking.

 

The villagers hushed again.

 

She made her way into the trees, and could faintly catch voices betting on whether she would be dead by nightfall or not.

* * *

 

 

Finding the trail had been laughably easy. It seemed the man hadn’t been kidding about their injuries, as the blood made it painfully obvious to know where the Noxian had been.

 

She stumbled on a decrepit shrine and almost missed it. It was a boxy affair, three stone walls covered in moss. The roof was wooden, and light from the holes in it just barely revealed a body in the furthest corner, though most of it was blocked from sight by a statue of a frogman, some forgotten deity. Silently, she raised her blades. The Noxian might be dead, might be sleeping. She’d make sure.

 

And yet--she hesitated. Whether it was what Karma had said, her own distaste at killing a defenseless enemy, or that damned frogman, she didn’t know, and while she sat there deliberating the Noxian awoke with a start. They shot up, reaching for their blade, only to slowly sink down with a groan.

 

“You there!” At Irelia’s shout, the Noxian froze. “Come out where I can see you! And don’t even dream of trying anything.”

 

The Noxian slowly shuffled out, standing next to the statue. She was as the villager had described her, matted white hair, half-healed burn wounds, red eyes, and yet very different. The “demon” looked gaunt and haggard and tired--not feral like he had said. Her armor--what was left of it, at any rate--marked her as a higher-ranking soldier.

 

“Are you a deserter?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“You’re not with the Noxians though? They left you behind.”

 

A nod.

 

Left for dead then. To have been living out in the wilderness alone and wounded--either this person was insanely lucky or insanely dangerous.

 

“Can you even speak?”   
  


She faintly croaked out, “No.”

 

Irelia put a hand to her head. “What am I going to do with you? You realize taking you back to the village would be almost certain death, what, with you being a Noxian who attacked one of the villagers.”

 

Her only response was to lean against the statue.

 

“There’s no need to question or arrest you either--unless you are still sympathetic? I’m assuming not.”

 

Another shake of the head.

 

Then she slumped like a puppet with it strings cut.

 

“Hey!” Irelia rushed forward and caught her. An idea formed in her head.

* * *

 

 

Irelia was sitting back, letting her horse steer on its own when she heard a rustling in the cart behind her.

 

“You’re awake?”

 

“Where--” was all the Noxian managed to get out before dissolving into a coughing fit.

 

“I convinced the villagers you were dead and told them I was taking your body for investigation. We’re on our way to my home now.”

 

As the coughing subsided, Irelia finally turned in the seat to look at her.

 

“I’m gonna ask you some questions. Yes or no only of course, since you can’t speak.”

 

She warily nodded.

 

“Are you badly hurt?”

 

Pause. Nod.

 

“And sick too, I’m guessing.”

 

Nod.

 

“Were you by yourself in that forest?”

 

Another nod.

 

“That village is pretty close to where the Coeur massacre happened-” As soon as the word Coeur left her mouth, the Noxian’s eyes widened.

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

The Noxian crouched over, hands clutching on her hair, hyperventilating. Hopping over into the back of the cart, Irelia grabbed her shoulder.

 

The reaction was immediate and violent. She twisted up and reared back, lashing out with her foot. Irelia only barely managed to dodge, and her blades flew at the Noxian, stopping just before hitting home.

 

As the cart trundled on, the two stared at each other, breathing heavily. Then the Noxian turned and sat at the very back, refusing to look at Irelia. Irelia returned to her seat, and they went the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

 

 

Her break was about halfway through when Riven regained her voice, though she couldn’t speak for extended periods of time.

 

Irelia stood at the doorway. “So… Katarina.” 

 

Bandaged and sitting on the floor, she grunted and continued to sharpen her blade. The whetstone’s cadence was almost soothing, and reminded Irelia of her father.

 

“I asked a friend to investigate for me. You’re actually Riven, yes?”

 

The whetstone stopped. “And?” 

 

“Don’t expect a fight at everything I say. If I had wanted you dead you’d be dead.”

 

“And you didn’t? Why?”

 

“I was told to let go of my hatred for Noxians. You are here to help with that.”

 

Riven resumed the steady motion. “Do what you will.”

 

Irelia watched as she worked. The first thing Riven had done once mostly lucid was take care of her blade. Aside from that and exercise--which the doctor Irelia called had expressly forbidden her from doing--Riven was a thoroughly unexciting guest. She seemed to spend her time looking out the window of the room Irelia had given her, or sitting on the porch doing much the same.

 

“Why haven’t you just left yet?”

 

“Only an idiot would refuse help when they need it.”

 

“That was decidedly un-Noxian.”

 

“What do you know of Noxus?”

 

“I could ask the same, considering the situation you’re in.” Irelia was pushing, and the resulting glare was an indication that she had maybe pushed too far.

 

She saw Riven’s hand tighten around the handle of her blade.

 

A harsh, gravelly anger entered her voice. “I forged myself into a weapon for Noxus, and now I am broken. Who is to blame for this? Who is to blame for the deaths--”

 

Riven seemed to catch herself, and took a breath before continuing.

 

“Maybe you’re right. What do I know of Noxus, truly?”

 

Irelia wondered when she had started to care for Riven’s well-being so much.

 

“I broke a sword once, when training with my brother. My father brought me to the swordsmith and I watched as that man took the useless blade and forged it anew. Not as it was, but as something different.”

 

Riven had gone back to grinding away, but was clearly listening.

 

“A knife, to be exact. What is broken can be reforged Riven. Not as it used to be, but still useful, nonetheless. Or we could have thrown the broken blade away--forgetting it and using another one. But I think you would prefer that that not happen.”

* * *

 

 

When Irelia awoke the next day, Riven had disappeared. A note had been left. It read, in shaky letters, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started with the idea that an injured Riven would seem like a demon to any villagers she met, and ended up with my take on how Irelia and Riven could have met after the war. Works for me.


End file.
